The Joker's Cute Little Hostage
by laurenloui
Summary: What happens when an criminal madman falls in love with his hostage. Includes 'typical Joker' content: violence, spanking, sexual tension etc.. Not crazily mushy, but might be a bit mushy in places;') Dark Knight inspired. Rated M (just in case)
1. Bank Robbery

Bank Robbery

**Dark Knight-inspired fanfic. Uses some scenes from the Dark Knight, idk if you guys like that? I like it;) In this fanfic, the Joker is gonna be **_**properly **_**in love with the girl rather than just a sex slave who never warms up to him (NOT saying there won****'****t be any smut/violence/Joker type stuff)! Might take a while for the whole thing to be written, but for now enjoooyy! - Lauren **

"Ok, everybody heads down, hands up!"

Joseph Washington shuffled back against the wall. He'd always known working in a bank might be a risky job. But he'd always ignored it. After all, Joseph Washington wasn't afraid of thugs..

A gang of men stampeded into the building wearing dark clothes and clown masks. Some shouted, some just admired the fear in their victims' eyes. One fired their gun and all the employees fell to the floor: paralysed with fear. Joe noticed several women shaking.

"Obviously we don't want ya doing anything with your hands except for holding on for dear life!" the gunman barked.

'_Only someone with some serious mental issues could do something this messed up...__' _Joe thought.

But for now, all the hostages could do was wait at gunpoint. Wait whilst other men rampaged around the building, wait while their guns echoed throughout. Whether it was employees losing their lives; nobody knew.

Looking around, Joe noticed that out of all of his colleagues, he was the only one still seated. He doubted the those punks had even seen him yet. Perhaps he was the only one with a gun.

Joe watched as the clowns tormented his colleagues; taunting and threatening them, backing them into corners so that they were so afraid they couldn't speak. Other men would surely be breaking into the vault by now... How could everyone just sit back and watch this happen? _'__This is shameful,__'_ Joe thought. Joe considered himself as a proud, honourable citizen of Gotham. He'd had it with these clowns.

With a sharp kick into his right shoulder, Joseph Washington's gun fired. In no particular direction, only to startle the attackers into leaving his colleagues alone. He didn't know if he aimed to kill, but he knew now he had taken a stand, he would have to follow through. Joe aimed at his two targets who were now both scuttling around: madly trying to save their lives.

'_So now they value life...__' _

Out of sight, the two men huddled behind a nearby counter. Approaching them with speed, Washington felt **unstoppable. **He was sure that he would be the hero this time. Who needs Batman anyway? If he was so useful he would've saved everyone by now. _'__Nah, Batman just wants to be put on a pedestal,__'_ Joe convinced himself.

Before he had his chance to prove himself, one of the clowns sprang up from behind their counter and sprayed metal in his attacker's direction. Bullet's eroded Joseph Washington: he shuddered to the ground, his body twitching sporadically.

The men went to inspect the body.

_Click, click, click, click._

Only women's heels could make that pleasant of a sound. One of the masked men turned, for there, gazing over her boyfriend's work, stood the city-renowned Harley Quinn. Dressed in her red and black checkered leather jumpsuit: she was beautiful. Her blonde hair was stricken back into her stereotypical jester hat. She loved to match her puddin'.

The picture of what happens when good met evil.

"Good job, Mister J."

Harley stripped one of the clowns' masks, revealing a face none other than the equally as famous Joker. His flamboyant makeup was a little smudged from the mask, but his scars were still as prominent. Still as unsettling. He curled his lips up into a cheeky smile, twitching up the tails of his scars even more. When he smiled like this... even Harley was afraid. But that's what had attracted her to the madman in the beginning: she loved how he always made those chills trickle down her spine.

"Like I say, if you're good at something, never do it for free..." the Joker purred. The way he looked at his woman had always sickened his men, though they tried their best not to show it. His eyes filled with lust. Some of them claimed it made his hazel eyes that extra shade darker. The same darkness that they turn when he was vexed.

As he ran his rough finger-ends up her neck and to her jawline (moving in for a kiss), there was a noise. It was distracting: it was something that had always appealed to him.** A squeal. **He turned his head for just a second, letting his fingers drop.

"Ignore it puddin', let's get outta here..." Harley clasped his head in her hands and pulled it back to face her. He let her keep her hands on his cheeks as he pouted; sticking out his lower lip like a sulky child. "Nooo..." he whined. "No no no, you know how I love a good squealer! You can't spoil my fun now..." 

He grinned wickedly, lowering his tone. "After all Harl, the fun's just getting started..."

"Aw, ok then Mister J." Harley rolled her eyes teasingly. The Joker skipped off giddily in the direction of the squeal. It wasn't clear where it was coming from exactly, so he just settled for the direction of the main string of counters. Harley stayed put, watching her puddin' do what he did best: psychological torture. She smirked.

"Good moorrniing, I'd like to make a withdrawal!" The Joker sang in his typical, weird sing-song voice. He giggled to himself. How he loved poke fun at the squealers.

The faint wailing continued. It was interrupted by - "Boss, the bus arrives in a couple minutes, we might wanna pack up the cash -"

"Yes, yes yes yes, shut up, shut up." The Joker groaned. He gestured vaguely towards the speaker. "Harley, sort him." 

"Yes boss..." Harley grinned widely, trotting over to the henchmen and hitting him precisely over the head with an oversized mallet. She'd obviously had a lot of practice. _'__I learnt from the best...__' _she thought to herself. She chuckled as the blood trickled from her victim's head.

For once, the Joker didn't even turn to watch. For behind the counter, shuddering in a cute little heap, was a young woman. She glanced up momentarily, then immediately curled up again, sobbing feebly.

"Well hello, beautiful..." The Joker kept his voice low and gentle as to not startle her. He didn't mean any harm to this one. He crouched down to her level. She looked up again; big innocent eyes blinking tears away to examine him properly. She **was **beautiful. When she'd looked at him, the Joker had had the opportunity to gaze upon her pretty face. He'd seen those big baby blues - the perfect contrast against her deep brown hair. Although it was clasped back, there was a certain waviness about it. Her face was flushed with tears, but to him, it only made her that extra bit more alluring. The Joker was a sadist like that.

Harley frowned over from her casualty. Mister J never called her anything other than 'Harl', never mind 'beautiful'. He didn't even know this girl! A pang of jealousy shot through her, traveling right down her arm and down her mallet...

She made her way over to them. Up close, she could see the girl quivering at her puddin's touch. She could see her puddin' running her fingers up her thigh to the kink at her waist, and he would've continued if not for -

Suddenly, the entire wall caved in. A familiar (and nostalgic)-looking school bus emerged through the clouds of dust and rubble. The driver sprang from the emergency exit doors. "Hey - what happened to the rest of the guys?" Harley was quick to silence him with a firm whack over the head. The Joker turned this time. He forgot completely about the girl at his side and grinned malevolently at the sight of a dead man before his woman. It'd always turned him on... He was just about to take to the bus (with the cash of course), when there was that distraction again: a whimper. Spinning on his heels, the Joker marched back up to her side for the last time. "Oh for Gods sake woman, can't you keep quiet for one second? This is a precise operation, can't you tell?!" He smirked, but the girl couldn't tell if he was being sarcastic. And it was far too dangerous to assume.

Instead, she gazed up innocently into his chocolate eyes. They weren't as dark and intimidating as before. Hopefully she would appear too defenseless to kill.

And she was right. The Joker didn't like killing anything that wouldn't put up a fight. But she'd interacted with him now. He'd have to take her with him. Somehow he didn't seem too upset about this.

"C'mon," he growled, scooping her up and slinging her over his shoulder. She tried to adjust her pencil skirt to cover herself, but he flicked her hands away. She'd slowed him down and embarrassed him. It was time to embarrass her, right?

'_I guess that__'__s what they call karma, toots...__' _he chuckled to himself.

Stepping into the bus (bags of cash on her back), Harley giggled. She loved a good hostage situation. With some luck, her puddin' would see the girl as the waste of time that she was. _'__With some luck, I__'__ll be able to see the end of her,__'_ Harley thought. Her puddin' slammed the emergency exit doors of the bus shut just as the cops arrived through the main entrance of the bank. The Joker had intentionally left his henchmen behind. They were all just a bunch of dumbasses wasting his time anyway.

"Boss!" one of them shouted. He ran for the coach, but it was too late: his boss had left them all hanging. The coach was already out of the building and back on the main road amongst a train of other coaches. Convenient.

The Joker sighed, pleased with himself. There's nothing better than less shares.

**Thanks for reading, please review & if there****'****s anything you want me to include, put it in the reviews!:) Open to all ideas (don****'****t have very many atm...). Sorry if this chapter didn****'****t have much conversation in it... Promise there is waaay more in the next chapter and for the foreseeable future hehe **


	2. The Journey 'Home'

The Journey 'Home'

**This chapter****'****s all about the coach journey... Loads more conversation/characterization here:) Kinda sets the scene for the next chapter. Are these chapters too short..? Too long? idk, opinions on this sorta thing in the reviews would be really appreciated, thank you! x **

The atmosphere in the school bus was tense. The girl, for some reason, had a constant flood of thoughts: mainly imagining what anarchy might be unleashed if a pin was to drop. It felt that any commotion might be enough to tip someone over the edge. Although she didn't know any of her kidnappers well enough, the clown disguises gave her enough reasoning to conclude that none of them were very mentally stable. She had no one to trust. Except from... maybe the guy in the makeup. He had been so gentle with her... However he did seem to be their leader. Maybe he was the craziest after all.

The silence continued for what seemed like **hours**. Gotham's skyscraper-filled centre faded away after about fifteen minutes (the girl guessed), revealing the dense outskirts of the city. She'd never seen a place so drab, being a city girl. Because of working in the bank, she'd had an apartment in one of those famous skyscrapers. She'd never seen something so ugly.

There was only one thing to focus her interest on the whole way... For continuously, out of the corner of her eye, the girl noticed something else. That man - the man with the creepy makeup - kept watching her. She never returned his gaze. She didn't want to give the wrong impression. She wasn't interested in him, she kept telling herself. **Not at all! **But why had he taken **her?** Why kidnap **her? **Was it the way she'd feared him back at the bank? _'__Oh God... please don__'__t let him be one of those perverted sadists...__" _

An eerie, slightly nasally voice pierced the otherwise 'awkward' silence. He savoured every syllable in his words: "He-llo."

She let her eyes dart around the coach quickly. The driver was on his own at the front of the bus. Aside from herself and maybe two other henchmen who'd made it onto the getaway vehicle, she was alone with the woman in the jumpsuit and the man with the makeup. He stared at her. This time, she stared back.

His mouth moved: "C'mon, city girly, didn't your daddy teach you any manners?"

She didn't respond. After matching the voice with the face, she was suddenly afraid.

Folding his arms, the Joker sighed. He gazed out of the window, pretending to sulk again. "If he didn't teach ya any, I'm gonna have to do it for him..."

It sounded like a threat. He continued. "You see, uh," he smacked his lips, "I don't do the kinda, y'know, 'daddy's little angel' discipline? I do the 'daddy's little hussy' kind that involves you going over my knee and my hand." He mimed slapping the air. His pretty little hostage knew what that meant. It meant it was time to be sociable.

"I think I'll stick to just talking, thanks." Her voice shook, but the Joker was amazed. He hadn't had a hostage **that** bold before. Even the girl was amazed by her sudden bravery, even if it had been diluted a little by fear.

"Ooh, bitta fight in you." He smacked his lips again and leaned forwards slightly. **"****I like that.****" **

The girl leaned away from him. She averted her eye contact. He reminded her of a pervy drunk off of a street corner. Even being the high-flying city girl she was, she'd seen plenty of those types of men and had never been attracted to them. If that's what this clown was getting at. Now, talking didn't seem a very good option either.

The Joker chuckled excitedly. Not only was she a squealer, but she was a squirmer, too. He liked making squirmers squirm equally as much as making squealers squeal. This girl was gonna be a **lot** of fun indeed...

Harley, too, had her arms folded. She was genuinely annoyed that this little rich girl make her puddin' act like this. But she had nothing to say. She just continued to sulk and make sideways glares at her puddin'.

The Joker meanwhile, had relaxed now that he'd broken the ice, and was leant back in his seat, arms folded, yet they were far more eased up. He and Harley were sat opposite their little hostage and he had the perfect view of both of them. It seemed flirting with the girl was annoying Harley. Annoying both of them, even. Time to talk a bit more.

"So toots, you gotta name?"

"Leila."

"You gonna tell me your surname too, little lady?"

"Napier."

Both the Joker and Harley felt a pang of nostalgia. Their eyes widened, stunned. Neither of them said anything, but both of them felt that pain in their hearts... Especially the Joker. He remembered that missing piece: the piece of the jigsaw that was forever lost.

"Napier?" He quickly recovered. "That's a cute name you've got yourself there. Bet the men at that little bank you, uh, 'work' at? Bet they were falling over eachother for you."

Leila still wasn't looking at either of them: that way she could be more confident. She'd sensed the nostalgia. Time to make **him** squirm a little.

"And you? What's your name?"

The Joker scoffed. "Don't ask me questions okay, you're **my **cute little girly hostage. Cute little girly hostages don't ask their kidnappers personal questions from now on, agreed?"

"Puddin', you told her if she didn't talk to ya, you'd spank her silly?" Harley wanted to confirm her puddin' wouldn't do that to anyone else but her. Spanking was **her **kinky punishment.

"Maybe I will, she's mine now!" The Joker giggled. He noticed the moody frown on Harley's face and sighed. "What am I gonna do with you, Harl, you get so jealous."

"I'm not jealous!" she snapped. Now it was her turn to avoid eye contact with him. This, of course, only made the Joker laugh more. Personally, it creeped Laila out. She didn't love his creepiness like Harley did. She was just a girl who'd gone to work, been robbed, and been kidnapped. By almost complete strangers. She wasn't charmed.

The Joker gazed out of the window. He seemed as though he were daydreaming, but then he noticed his surroundings. "Oop, almost forgot." Reaching deep into a pocket in his purple trench coat, he pulled out a blindfold. It was skin coloured, but had cartoon, exaggerated 'scared' eyes on it. He laughed to himself, admiring his creativity. Then he handed it to his hostage.

"For you, Leeeiilaaa." He hung on the vowel sounds, turning her name into an elongated drawl. Obviously mocking her job in a posh bank. At first, because of his cheekiness, she refused to put it on. Then his eyes went dark. "Put them on, toots, you can't see where exactly you're going. You see..." he smacked his lips, "...it's a bit risky telling your hostages where old Batsy should pick them up from."

Leila felt daring again. "Maybe I want him to pick me up."

The Joker chuckled to her, fixing her blindfold in place and tying it tight. "Oh, you are a feisty little one... But he can't pick you up toots, because you're my cute little girly hostage, remember? I decide if you're gonna get rescued. The kidnapper **always** calls the shots. Rule no.1 of kidnapping, y'know."

The bus pulled sharply around a corner, and suddenly the road became far more rough. The wheels bounced off the uneven ground and Leila hit her head several times against the glass of the windows. Although she could no longer see, she sensed they were driving over some kinda field.

"We're not going over a field, if that's what you're planning to tell Batsy," the same odd little voice muttered.

"Where else could we b-"

"Atata... Remember what we agreed? The cute little girly hostage doesn't ask her kidnapper personal questions. Asking where somebody lives is a **very **personal question indeed."

He looked to Harley and whispered cheekily into her ear: "she might be going over my knee for that."

Harley huffed. She was done with him for today. She got up, moved up the bus, and went to sit at the wheel with the driver. Hopefully she might get her puddin' as jealous as her.

"Did you hear that, Leeiilla?"

Leila shook her head. She didn't want to talk now she knew there was no hope for her rescue.

His eyes shone bright with giddiness. "I told the little green eyed monster that you'd be going over my knee later. Do you remember what that entails?"

Leila nodded cautiously.

"Do you want to go over my knee later?"

Leila shook her head straightaway; making it clear it was the worst thing she could think of.

The Joker sniggered at her immediate reaction. He was making her **squirm**… "In that case, the cute little girly hostage is going to have to recall what she must never, eevver do. Can you remember that, toots?"

Leila nodded.

He grinned, even though he knew she couldn't see. "Tell me?"

Leila gulped quietly; preparing herself to begin. It was too long a wait for her kidnapper.

"Ugh, I have to do everything round here," he muttered quickly. "Listen - I want you to say 'I must never **ever **ask my handsome kidnapper personal questions because I don't want to have my bottom slapped."

"I must never ever ask my," she paused, crinkling up her nose, "**handsome **kidnapper personal questions."

"Oh, but why ever so not, cute little girly hostage of mine?"

She stalled. "Because I don't want to have my bottom slapped." 

Grinning wider, he praised her, "ata girl... In perfect time, too." Leaning very close to her, he slowly lifted her blindfold. She jumped from having the clown's face so close to her own. Smirking, he murmured. "We're home, toots."

**Don****'****t know if this did as much as I wanted it to:( And Leila is in no way related to the Joker! Just wanted to add some nostalgia:****'****) please review, positives and negatives would be **_**much **_**appreciated:) Thank you for reading Chapter 2! x **


	3. Welcome Home, Doll

Welcome Home, Doll

**Was half asleep when I wrote this chapter, sorry:( **

Harley watched as her puddin' carried their hostage out of the coach and up the pathway to the house. As they exited, the Joker made a point of prodding a button on a small, telephone-like device.

On cue, the coach blew up, along with the driver inside.

Harley's jealousy was growing to be immense. When she met her puddin', it hadn't been by chance. He hadn't been blown away by her beauty, or her innocence like he had been with this **girl. **However Leila was still blindfolded, making Harley feel a little more confident about where she stood with her puddin', but their prisoner **still** was the one nestled into the Joker's chest. Harley figured that for now, all she could do was mooch along behind. She felt like a third wheel to a pair of newly-weds.

The Joker signalled for his little green eyed monster to open the door. She complied immediately. If carrying out his every wish was the way to get back herself noticed, she'd do it every time without fail!

"Welcome to your new home, doll," the Joker whispered to the blindfolded bundle in his arms. Even if he meant what he said only for her, Harley heard every word. She scowled. As her puddin' went to carry Leila through the threshold, she made a point of stamping in **just** before him. Her puddin' just grinned: squirmers.

The way her kidnappers' shoes echoed up to her ears gave Leila the impression that the house was huge. Perhaps a stone floor. If the house was as big as she thought, it must've been expensive. She guessed the floor might've been made of marble.

The Joker carried the girlish bundle up a stone-floored flight of stairs. Harley followed. She didn't feel like a third wheel anymore - she felt like a lost puppy searching for an owner.

They walked in a straight line for quite a while (Leila guessed it was a hallway) before finally coming to a stop. She felt the rough, but muscular hands slipping away from her before she was dumped onto something low and springy.

"Peekaboo, toots…"

Taking off her blindfold, Leila knew immediately what room she was in. The red and black checkered bed she was sat on shined like the leather worn by it's owner. A chessboard-like floor panelled the room. There were several large windows: some with red curtains, some with black. There was a wardrobe, but it was empty.

She'd only ever seen Harley in one outfit anyway.

"You'll sleep with Harls tonight, my cute little girly hostage," the Joker giggled, knowing how much this would annoy his henchwoman.

"It's evening already...?" '_That coach journey must__'__ve been longer than I guessed...__'_

"Aww, you really don't do blindfolds do ya doll? You're all muddled up. I'll keep that in mind next time I wanna take you anywhere."

Leila looked out of the windows. The sun was setting over the -

She couldn't see quite what: the Joker was at the windows in a flash, drawing the curtains madly. He paced back over to the bedside, wagging his finger at his hostage. "Atata, see that's what we don't do. You can't know where you are, remember?"

"I thought I just couldn't ask personal questions…" Leila mumbled. The Joker didn't like that. _Not. One. Bit._

"Y'know…" He sat down beside her on the bed. He considered telling his cute little girly hostage the story about how he got his scars, but he figured it was too early on to frighten her like that. He wasn't feeling that creative anyway. Harley looked away. The sight of the pair of them just sat on the same bed turned her stomach.

The Joker continued. "Y'know - to a guy like meeee, a bit of fight in a woman is **insaaanely** attractive. We've touched on the subject before… but we never said what the limit was on the fight, agreed?"

Leila nodded.

"And after your sarcastic little comment there… I suppose I'll have to put you on a warning."

"But -"

"Atata!" The Joker tapped her once on the nose lightly, as if scolding a misbehaving puppy. "You came so close to breaking the rules just then, I might have to take you over my knee right here…"

Leila, without knowing it, shuddered. The Joker loved every second of it: he wasn't even trying to make her uncomfortable, but just his very presence unnerved her! _'So much fun to be had…'_

"But since it's your first day I'll let you off."

Harley, also without knowing it, sighed loudly. It was amazing how he could make people speak their minds so easily, he thought to himself. There was just something about him that people were so afraid of they were forced into honesty.

"You guys are still shacking up together tonight though, no doubt about it." He pointed slowly to Harley. "That means **you, **Harls, pay attention now doll!"

Harley stood up to attention. More orders: more chances to get into her puddin's good books.

The Joker moved from the bed to the doorway, exhaling almost dreamily. "Ah, two women at my command. That's every man's fantasy, y'know? One day we can rub it in men's face and have a threesome!" He tumbled into fits of hysterics, hopping about the checkered floor giddily.

Leila was sure she felt vomit enter her mouth.

"Now have fun, la-diieees! Don't do anything naughty." He paused before smacking his lips and pulling that familiar drunken expression. "Well. Don't do anything naughty without me." He left, clunking the door shut behind him. Both women heard a click turn in the lock. They were officially **stuck together.**

'_If I'm gonna be trapped here, I might as well get comfortable,' _Leila thought. Staying sat on the bed, she began to undo her hair from the grips she'd had it stricken up in. Her loose hair tumbled down to below her breasts. Harley gawped at the sheer length of it. She quickly snapped out of it.

"Don't you be gettin' comfy, you won't be here for very long."

Leila assumed this woman wasn't as dangerous as the man. The previous wave of confidence came flooding over her again.

"Don't worry, um, Harley?" She stumbled over her name. "I don't **intend** to be here for very long."

"But for the record… while you're here… leave Jack alone. **Well **alone."


	4. Matching Pair

Matching Pair

**Sorry if the last chapter was a bit short, I'll try to make this one a bit longer:) WARNING: bit of bad language in this chapter; if you don't like, look away now *muahaa* **

The night had finally drawn in. Even with the curtains drawn, Leila could see the light fading outside. Turned out that even criminal masterminds went to bed early as Harley was already in bed and breathing heavily from the covers of sleep. It was finally time. Time for the breakout.

Keeping as silent as possible, Leila rose from her makeshift bed on the chessboard floor. For a hostage, even a rug was luxury. Creeping to the door, she remembered: that clown - Jack, had Harley called him? - had locked the door. _'Shit.' _

Leila had never been someone renowned for their memory, but just at this moment she recalled Harley laying out all her weapons before dressing for bed. It was still unimaginable how she'd managed to fit all those things in a jumpsuit without pockets.

Still as silent, Leila moved to the chest of drawers on the other side of the room. Harley stirred as her hostage ran her fingers over the abnormally sharp metal objects. Hopefully she wasn't sleeping with one eye open.

There were stereotypical weapons there: a hammer, a lengthy mallet, pen/kitchen knives, a small meat cleaver, and several screwdrivers. Leila settled for the thinner objects: a pen knife and one of the tinier screwdrivers.

Back at the door, she began to unpick the lock. She'd never really practiced in a real situation before… She'd never really practiced at all. Leila figured that the mechanism would have to be turned as though the ridged edge of a key was rotating inside, so when she pushed the mini screwdriver upwards and outwards, she wasn't surprised when the lock clicked free. Harley stirred, murmuring 'puddin''. But nobody came, _'thank God.' _

Leila clunked the unlocked door behind her and headed down the corridor. She was too tired to comprehend that she might need to lock it again so that Harley couldn't track her down in the morning.

Trudging along, the cute little hostage felt like she was in Alice in Wonderland; the part where Alice was dwarfed by the huge hallway around her. The walls were the tallest she'd seen by far. Brushing her hand against one, they were velvet. Purple, velvet walls. _'Crazy…' _

Leila would have been happy to stay in Harley's room overnight if it hadn't have been for her threat. 'Leave Jack alone. **Well **alone.' What did she think was gonna happen? Did she assume that Leila would fall for the psycho clown just as she'd done before? _'Crazy…' _Leila repeated in her thoughts. She'd just find another room to spend the night in, and explain herself in the morning.

She made her way down the winding staircase (it was marble after all), and was just about to enter the closest room when a figure came out of the darkness. He blended in perfectly with his surroundings: dark purple suit, black gloves - fresh-blood stained potato peeler.

The Joker noticed her staring at his recently-used weapon.

"What have you been -" Leila started, but never got the chance to stop: The Joker practically launched himself at her as he was at her side in a second, gloved hand muffling her mouth, the other hand brandishing the potato peeler. The scent of blood clogged the girl's nostrils.

"Sh, sh, sh… Don't struggle, I'm curious." He paused to let her squirm a bit more. "Do tell her kidnapper how the cute little girly hostage got out of her room?"

Her muffled voice indicated he should take his hand away. He did. "I, I, uh -"

The Joker's eyes darkened. Even in their dark state, Leila swore she could see fire in them. "C'mon, woman I haven't got all night," he tightened his grip on her, "**how did you get out of your room?" **

"I picked the lock," Leila wailed. Before she'd been intrigued by her kidnapper - now all she could feel was fear.

"Oh?" The Joker traced the potato peeler over her plump little lips. How he loved the female body. "Oh well aren't you a smart little one."

The fire left his eyes momentarily. "But why would such a cute little girly hostage want to leave her room? I mean **c'mon, **you had a rug and everything!"

Should she tell the truth? If this man was crazy, what would his partner be like? She figured it was more dangerous to lie to him than her.

"She threatened me."

"Aw, green eyed monster getting feisty? That's why I fell for her in the first place you know. **That fire. **You know the one I mean? The one where she gets all… aggressive. Ooh, yes that's what I like in a woman."

Leila listened to him ramble on about his love for the jester for what seemed like hours. How he could talk. No wonder he dressed like a clown: he was a born entertainer.

When he finally stopped, Leila had practically fallen asleep in his arms. The Joker had noticed her delicate little frame relax into his chest as he was talking… Secretly that's why he'd continued. Now, in her near-subconscious state, she couldn't object to what he would do next.

He began to drag his cute little girly hostage along the lower corridor. "Where are you taking me…?" Leila wanted to stop him, but she was too weak.

He took her to another large room: it was similar to Harley's, except the colour scheme wasn't red and black it was purple and green. The Joker laid her down carefully onto a four-poster bed, resting her head on the joker-card pillows so her hair was splayed out in the feminine way he loved. Her eyes slid shut. While she couldn't see him, he admired her curvy frame.

Although in that outfit, he couldn't quite see -

As she fell asleep, her kidnapper rummaged around in his closet. He knew just the clothes he wanted her in.

She mumbled over to him. "What are you doing over there..?"

He was crouched beside the bed, next to her weary blue eyes in a moment. His voice was soft. Almost reassuring. "Now now, what have I told my cute little girly hostage about not asking any personal questions..? You're in my **bedroom. **Surely that's a veerry personal place. No questions at all in here."

She muttered something else as he went back to the closet, but he couldn't hear. Nor did he want to. He had to get her in his chosen outfit before she woke up too much.

When he returned to the bed, The Joker had folds of material draped over his arm. She couldn't make out what they were (both from the dim lighting and the lack of sleep), but she could see a certain lace lining the edge.

"Looks like you're gonna need help getting into theeese… Look at you. What an embarrassing thing when a pretty young woman can't even dress herself."

'_Pretty…' _Leila focused on the word. He thought she was _'pretty'. _"You think I'm **pretty, **Jack?" She mocked through her tired mouth.

The Joker stopped laying out the clothes on the bed. "Don't call me that," he hissed.

"Is that personal, too?" Leila mocked again.

The fire returned to his eyes. He glared at her for a moment, then began to forcefully pull off her black, translucent tights.

"No!" she cried, but no one heard her. She hadn't seen any henchmen around the place, but she knew they'd be there somewhere.

The Joker growled, covering her mouth with one hand. If there was one thing he didn't like, it was whinging. And she looked like she'd be protesting a lot.

He continued to wrench off her clothing: first her shoes and tights, then her blazer (all work clothes). When he got to her pencil skirt and white blouse, he grinned. He could see her own black, lacy bra showing through the material, and loved how his lustful eyes made Leila cringe. There was that female body again.

Surprisingly, he was careful when unpicking her buttons. Well. Secretly he was just savouring the moment. It had been years since he'd undressed a woman. An **attractive **woman, too.

She yelped faintly when he tugged her blouse away. Her breasts were nearly fully exposed if it wasn't for that damn bra. The Joker thought about taking all her clothes off.

'_No… but probably later.'_

After taking her skirt off, and ogling her bum quite a bit, the Joker was finally ready to dress her up.

"Okay doll, I want this to be a biiig surprise for **both **of us, so you're gonna have to let me put the blindfold on you again."

This time he picked out a blindfold with cartoon-sexy eyes. Again, he giggled at his creativity.

Leila squirmed out of his hands when she saw what was on the mask: she didn't want to be a little barbie **doll** to a sex-crazed maniac. He hissed: "atata, you're in **my **domain now, doll."

He strapped the blindfold on securely - Leila was sure she felt the blood rush out of her head. The Joker immediately began to yank stockings onto her. _'Stockings… so I am gonna be a little sex slave," _Leila thought. Various other bits of clothing were added, before finally her kidnapper tore the blindfold off and pulled a mirror to the foot of the bed.

He demanded that she sat up. When she didn't, he gripped both of her wrists and pulled her into a sitting position. She winced at his touch: sure enough there were red finger marks on her skin.

"Oh poor cute little girly hostage, did her kidnapper hurt her?" The Joker looked to her reddened flesh. "That's nothing to what would've happened if you went over my knee, doll, that was **gentle." **

He giggled at her panicked expression. "Aww… you're such a little cutie. And you're mine now - look!" He grinned as her jaw dropped.

Her reflection mirrored that of a female Joker. Sure enough, there were black lacy suspenders to the thigh, topped off by a purple mini skirt. Instead of her pinstripe work-blazer, she now wore a matching purple one. There wasn't a green waistcoat, but there was a transparent white camisole. It was little too short for her, too: the top of the skirt and the bottom of the camisole didn't quite meet, displaying her tummy to the Joker.

He chuckled devilishly at the sheer amount of skin on show. He even reached out to tickle her stomach. She flinched.

"Ticklish I see? Now I know how to wake you up when I want a bit of fun." This tipped him over the edge into a hysterical fit of giggles.

Leila's expression dropped. So that's what he'd dressed her up for, she'd been right. This was her new lingerie, right?

The Joker saw the fall in her face. "Aww… don't worry, doll. I wouldn't do that to ya, look how traumatised it's making you, it'd be no fun at all. Nuh-uh."

She perked up a little when she knew the truth. It was just something to make him feel like he owned his hostage just a **tiny **bit more. _'As long as the clown's happy…' _

"Hey - c'mere, c'mere." The Joker perched himself beside her on the edge of the bed. "I bet you're tired, ain't ya doll? All this late-night sneaking around… Bless."

He ran a finger through the kinks in her hair. She didn't flinch this time. It was… nice to have a hand caress her exhausted head. Soothing. **Almost. **

"Come to daddy, c'mon." The Joker rested his arm around her shoulders, leaning back into a lying-down position and taking her with him.

"**Daddy?!" **she exclaimed, clearly distraught.

"Hey! I'm not gonna make you call me daddy, don't freak out on me, jeez woman." He sighed. "Women, **always **overreacting."

Now their heads were both resting on the pillow. They were both facing eachother. Gazing at him in this light, Leila noticed his scars really weren't that noticeable. He was almost… appealing to her… _'almost!' _she snapped.

"Now c'mon. Now we're a matching pair… and the little green eyed monster isn't here… daddy can protect his cute little girly hostage from naughty little threats. Yes, daddy will be having words with his harlequin tomorrow. How dare she threaten his little doll…"

She smiled at him through the darkness. Somehow she felt protected having this tall stranger hold her in the darkness: his hand traced up her thigh, pulling her miniskirt up over her pantyline, and continued up her waist until it reached the dip. He hung his arm over her casually. Protectively.

The Joker let his eyes wander down her body to her exposed hip: he giggled cheekily, and Leila's cheeks immediately flushed, covering her body quickly.

"Is the little doll embarrassed? She needn't be. She's very shapely. Daddy's little piece of eye candy, y'know."

But that was it - Leila couldn't keep her eyes open any longer. Her eyelids dropped again, and her face snuggled deeper into the pillow.

A strand of hair tumbled over her cheek, and the Joker removed it. He loved gazing down at her little girly features. They were so tempting to him… But he couldn't. She was so vulnerable.

'_Jack, you'd better not be going soft on me. Just carve her face while she sleeps. Right here, right now Jack!' _

But he couldn't do it. He just lay there, his arms around his little feminine hostage, lying there in his own confusion.

**Wow, this was longer than expected. Wanted it to have everything I'd planned, heehe What did you guys think? Anything you wanna see more of? Thanks to everyone who's reviewing: I loooove reading reviews haha:') **


	5. The Morning After

The Morning After

**Had other things on my mind when writing this… But tried my best for you guys:') hehe **

The Joker lay on his back. He woke with a girl nestled under his arm and her hand resting on his stomach. For a moment, he just took in that feeling: the feeling of how her hand rose and fell with every breath he took, how he could feel her slow exhale against his skin even through his shirt.

Gently, he ran his fingers through her hair - stroking it off her face. She was even more beautiful asleep.

This was something he'd never done with Harley. _'Boy did it feel good.' _

_**Several minutes later…**_

An outraged Harley burst into the Joker's room - she was wearing her red/black checkered nightie and her hair blonde hair was riddled with tangles. It didn't stop her alerting her puddin'.

"Mister J, mister J - the hostage has escaped!"

She skidded to a halt when she saw. Her eyes darted around the room for a second (expecting to see him awake) before falling onto the bed. What she saw horrified her: **her **puddin' asleep in bed with another woman. They looked comfy, too. And what was she **wearing?! **_'Why have I got that knock-off jumpsuit and this little brat gets to be Mister J's other half?!"_

Springing onto the bed, Harley childishly jumped up and down on her puddin's legs. The Joker woke with a groan. His voice was deeper from sleep… Huskier.

"Y'know…" he began, eyes still closed. "Cute little girly hostages really shouldn't wake their kidnappers like that…"

Harley slapped him round the face. His makeup had been smudged when she came in, but now practically half of his face had been revealed. The Joker just grinned. Like he'd said before; he loved that fire in her.

He mocked her overly dramatic approach. "Look, I can explain!" He tried to sound serious, but his voice was barely audible through his uncontrollable laughter.

Harley slapped him again - this time harder. "Stop it! Stop laughing puddin', this isn't funny!"

"No, no no no. Not funny at all. But the look on your face is." The Joker started again. Now his laughter was **hysterical. **

Leila began to stir in the Joker's arms. He mimed shushing to his disgruntled Harley. For some reason, she did. Mumbling something into his chest, Leila began to wake. She tugged on the buttons on his shirt, as if telling him to be quiet. Harley couldn't be quiet any longer.

"How did you get in here?!" she hollered. "Mister J locked the door!"

Before Leila could answer, her kidnapper was already explaining. "Looks like our little visitor is smarter than we thought, Harl." He patted Leila's hand (the one on his stomach) affectionately. It reminded Harley of a proud father praising his daughter.

He continued to look smug before announcing; "she picked the lock. **All by herself! **Aren't you impressed?!"

Harley sighed, exasperated. She slumped onto the other side of the Joker, lying down in a similar way to Leila. She hoped he would put his arm around her, but he didn't. In fact, he acted quite coldly.

"But why is she in your bedroom, puddin'… Why is she in your bed?"

"I told her she could."

"Even **I **don't sleep with you, puddin'!"

"Atata," The Joker put a finger to her lips, "I've slept with you **plenty **of times."

"Not like that!" Harley exclaimed, looking disgusted. She paused in thought. "You didn't do **that **with her though… did ya?!"

This just set the Joker off again; the hysterics were back. "You have your own room Harl, this little one doesn't even have a house anymore thanks to me!" The laughing continued.

Harley lay there and stared at him. She could understand how uprooting someone so violently would be appealing, but how it could be that funny, she didn't understand. Sometimes she wished she'd just left him and his psychosis in Arkham.

"How could ya do this to me, puddin'…" moaned Harley.

"Y'know… It wasn't actually my fault. I mean, after all, it was **your **weapons that let her get out, sweetcheeks."

"But I couldn't help it!" Harley's voice turned to a wail. "I always put my things out when I get dressed for bed… How was I s'posed to know she could pick a lock?"

The Joker chuckled. "You're just too adooorable when you're angry, Harls."

"I'm serious, Mister J! I want her gone! If she's not outta here by tomorrow morning, I'll get a **lot **angrier!"

She saw the excitement in her puddin's eyes and growled as she got up from the bed and moved to the door. Yet another reason why she should've abandoned him in Arkham: he was delighted by her threats. _'God Harley, you're an ex-psychiatrist, you should know what to threaten him with!' _she scolded herself forcefully.

Leaning in the doorway, she warned him again. Hopefully this time he'd take notice "Out. By. Tomorrow. Morning."

The Joker smacked his lips before grinning cockily. Harley huffed a final time as she marched out of his room, slamming the door loudly behind her.

This was enough to wake Leila up. She woke with a start, only to find herself in the most unimaginable place possible: the Joker's arms. He was warm. In such a cold building, the warmth of his body was a strange comfort. "What was that?"

"What was what."

"That noise… it sounded like a door… slamming?" Leila's sleepy voice was weak. To the Joker, it sounded like she was helpless. He loved that.

"No, that was just that damn green eyed monster again, toots. Constantly throwing a hissy fit. Women, eh?"

Leila snuggled closer into his chest and closed her eyes again. The Joker resumed his new hobby of watching her. It was curious how he didn't want to move her. He never wanted her hands to move from his stomach, she was too beautiful. Misery loves company, that's what they always say, right?

The arm that was round her shoulders traced down her frail spine and to her lower back, pulling her to him. She moaned faintly at the strength in his touch: his was forceful, even when pulling her a fraction of an inch. It was like he was a guard at a prison and she was his prisoner. Not only did he like this, but she did too.

After the long pause, Leila continued. "Harley was in here?" She could only vaguely remember that she had unfinished business with her.

"Yeah."

"What did she want?"

"The usual sort of demands when we get hostages. She gets jealous. Wants them out by the next morning."

"And **are** they out by the next morning?"

"Usually. What Harley says goes, see. Usually she wants me to get angry with her so I can give her little tush a good walloping." He chuckled, remembering the kinky things Harley was into.

Leila flinched, remembering how powerful he'd been when pulling her to him. _'That must be painful…' _

"And will I be gone by morning?"

The Joker paused also. **Would **she be gone by tomorrow? He was suddenly confused: he liked her company. He didn't even want to carve her face before she left. He wanted her to stay. _"Not forever!" _he corrected himself angrily. He wouldn't go soft because of a cute little girly hostage like the one lying in his arms.

He moved his other arm so it was over her hips. It was a sort of cuddle.

"No, doll. I don't think you'll be gone by morning."

**Sorry if this chapter was terrible (I didn't plan it out like I usually do and didn't get time to read it over:( ) - again, any ideas for this fanfic would be much appreciated (in the reviews) ;') Thanks to all readers and all reviewers! x **


	6. Author's Note

**Sorry for no chapters recently, have been very busy with coursework etc over the past week:( **_**But reviews really keep me going**_** (hint hint *suggestive face*), so please review/follow/favourite:') Hopefully I will be writing again this week, and if not on the weekdays definitely during the weekend. **

**Thanks for everyone who's reading- it's awesome to finally get my writing read:) x**


	7. Sweetheart

"Sweetheart"

**Sorry this has taken ages, sorry if it isn't up to scratch - had to get back in the mood for writing again:') Was in a slight rush when I wrote this chapter, but read it over a couple times so it should be alright….. let me know what you thought to this chapter, was dark knight inspired like chapter 1, didn't know if you guys would like that? thanks (again) for reading:) x**

Leila concluded she must've fell asleep again, because when she opened her eyes for the third time, her kidnapper wasn't there. She blinked a little and slowly sat up, supporting herself with one elbow. After her eyes had adjusted to the strong morning light, she wasn't panicked. _'Why? Most girls would be screaming for help by now…'_

"Ah my cute little girly hostage is awake!"

'_So my bed buddy is still here after all.'_

"For a second there I thought you'd forgotten about me," she mumbled. Her voice was tired and feeble still - the Joker smiled to himself. Once again it looked like he was going to be the dominant one.

"You've been a lazy girl, doll. I let you off for being a tad drowsy earlier on, but now… well, it's like babysitting a hormonal teenager." He smacked his lips. "Now that's something I **don't **like."

The Joker sauntered over to the bed, hands in the pockets of his huge trench coat. Leila wondered just how heavy it would be if it was draped over her tiny frame.

He peered down at her. She squinted, adjusting her eyes to the sudden close object she had to focus on. Would he punish her for sleeping in?

"Aw, you look all cute and panicky again…" he cooed. "I do love making you look like that. But no, no. We've got veeeerry important business to be taking care for this morning, doll. Oh yes. And guess who's going to be daddy's little helper..?"

His little hostage rolled her eyes. There was that word again; 'daddy'.

"Whoops, did I say 'daddy'? I forgot my cute little girly hostage isn't okay with that."

Leila interrupted him. "So what's this business you've got to take care of?"

"Ooh, you'll have to wait and see!" Her kidnapper giggled delightedly. He loved surprises himself. Especially the kind that involved Batman dangling outside his bedroom window… Not that that had happened. _'Yet.' _

He continued excitedly - almost as if the surprise was for himself: "you've had no surprises yet, toots. I've had surprises." His voice lowered to a stiff growl. **"Like when you sneaked out of your room last night. **And now, you see, you've uh, 'tipped the scale'. It's unfair for me and Harls to have all the fun, right? So you're just gonna have to truuuust me and come and see what's in store, okay?"

Leila nodded, shutting her eyes again. She was still exhausted from last nights escapades. She'd almost forgotten about Harley until he reminded her. But she did remember her threat: "out by morning". She had 24 hours to persuade her kidnapper to let her out. But at the moment, all she could do was hope that her surprise would be pleasant.

"And don't worry," the Joker added, slipping his leather gloves onto his hands and grinning, "the green eyed monster won't be joining us."

—

A man with clown makeup and a young woman in a matching purple outfit sat in a taxi cab with blacked-out windows. Whilst he drove, she sat in the passenger seat, anxious to see where the journey would end. He giggled occasionally when he saw anything corrupt: someone being mugged, a passer by robbing a shop - anything that showed imperfection meant delight. His passenger just watched, disgusted. Despite being the city girl, the farthest she'd seen from perfect was drunks on the street corner. And she'd done the complete opposite of 'delight' at them.

They pulled up outside what looked to be an abandoned building. There were several other vehicles already parked up outside, the majority with tinted windows. People like the Joker? Leila didn't know. Nor did she really **want** to.

"Alright, doll. Stick with me, okay? This is a reeeaallyy nice surprise 'n all, but my fellow criminal masterminds might not be as pleasant as me, got it?"

Leila had to clamp her lips together to stop her from laughing. 'Pleasant'.

The Joker left the vehicle first, walking round to the passenger side and opening the car door for his cute little girly hostage. She liked this courtesy. She almost took back nearly laughing at him.

After stepping outside onto the cool gravel, the Joker took her hand. It wasn't rough like he had the night before. It was… tender, almost. It was if he didn't want to hurt her. This was something she'd never imagined him thinking, but she was right. He didn't want to hurt her. Right now, he just wanted to keep her safe. He knew that types of men in that building and he **certainly **didn't want his little doll in any danger. She was his prize, and would remained unspoilt. _'Until I want her to be otherwise…'_

When they arrived inside, the Joker made Leila pause outside one of the room. She heard many voices. All male, all with a murderous pang to their voices. Her kidnapper put a finger to his lips: they were eavesdropping now.

However hard she listened, Leila couldn't quite catch what her fellow guests were saying. She caught the insults quite clearly, though. "He wears a cheap purple suit and makeup…"

The Joker frowned, clenching his fist. The suit **wasn't **cheap. He hated it when people insulted something he valued.

The voices continued. Leila recognised a Chinese accent… one proposing a plan to move all deposits to one location. None of the men were to know about it except the one talking. The conversation ended with; "rest assured. Your money is safe."

The Joker leant into his hostage's ear and whispered: "That's our cue, toots."

He entered silently. The only sound he was making was a low and malevolent chuckle. Nobody saw, but he held one hand behind his back and pulled his forefinger in a 'come-hither' motion. Leila followed obediently.

"And I thought, **my jokes** were bad." The Joker only said this when he came into everyone's view. They all glared back at him, but their expressions softened when they saw the petit young lady follow him in. Their eyes filled with lust… Similar to how the Joker's eyes darkened when he saw Leila for the first time, back at the bank robbery.

"Who's your friend?" A black man, someone Leila had heard of as a mob boss called 'Gambol', snarled. His voice was deep and husky. It was something Leila could've listened to all day. She was half tempted to beg **him **to take her from the Joker. His voice was faaar richer than his nasally drawl.

"Oh this?" The Joker glanced back at his doll. "She's mine. Don't you get any ideas, uh, Gambol?" Gambol frowned, almost baring his teeth back at the clown.

He sat down at the head of the table and adjusted his suit. He continued. "… I know how sexually deprived you all are. And as for the suit… it wasn't cheap. You oughta know, you bought it -"

Gambol stood, immediately. He'd never liked the clown. He was just someone he had to get along with to stay alive.

"Sit." Leila recognised him as the Chechen. His voice too, was appealing. "I want to hear proposition."

The Joker looked up at Gambol, then gestured towards the Chechen. Reluctantly, he sat, not once taking his eyes off the clown.

"You too, toots. Why don't ya take a seat?"

Leila didn't see any chairs… Awkwardly, she began to kneel down to sit on the floor. The Joker wasn't having that.

"Atata…" He scooped her up (from a seated position) and sat her down - side on - on his lap. In his arms again, Leila was still amazed at his strength. With his coat on, he didn't seem to be as strong as he was, but without, she was sure he would have a muscular build.

"Now." The Joker leant back in his chair, calm. Leila went back with him, nestled into his chest. Even when she was sat on his knee, her head only just reached his shoulder. He continued slowly: "let's wind the clocks back a year… These… cops and lawyers wouldn't dare cross **any **of you. I mean… what happened? Did your balls drop off? Hm? You see, a guy, like mee…"

"A freak."

The Joker merely glanced at Gambol and his little correction before continuing. He wasn't going to provoke him, it'd only put his cute little girly hostage at risk. He started again: "a guy like me - look, listen. I know why you choose to have your, little," he coughed, "'group therapy sessions' in broad daylight. I know why you're afraid to go out at night."

When he leaned forward onto the table, Leila nearly tumbled off his lap. She squeaked as she rocked forward, but he quickly wrapped his arm around her. He did it without thinking. This shocked him. If it'd been Harley, he would've just let her fall. He paused to think about this. Then he snapped back to reality.

"The Batman."

The Chechen piped up again. "What do you propose?"

"It's simple, we, uh, **kill **the Batman."

Several men laughed. Another man, Sal Maroni, just smirked. "If it's so simple, why haven't you done it already?"

"If you're good at something never do it for free." The Joker leaned back in his chair, absentmindedly running his gloved fingers through his hostage's hair. She closed her eyes and enjoyed it. She could smell the gunpowder on every one of them, but now she realised it was only the Joker she felt **safe** with.

The Chechen relaxed also. "How much you want?"

"Uh, half." 

"I've got a better proposition," Gambol murmured. "The girl."

"Ugh, Gambol we've already been through this. The girl is mine, and you've gotta learn to deal with it. Maybe we can arrange more therapy sessions for you, eh?"

"**Enough** from the clown!" Gambol rose up again, so did some of his henchmen.

The Joker rose also, taking Leila with him, he held her protectively under his right arm, pulling her to him. The stench of gunpowder was stronger then ever, but still she snuggled her face into his trench coat. It was surprisingly soft… Surprisingly comforting.

Gambol approached the pair menacingly, the Joker backing away at an equal pace.

"Give me the girl, **and** I kill Batman. No strings that way, clown."

"Uh, **no**." The Joker's tone was sarcastic. Gambol didn't like that.

He lunged at Leila, grabbing for her arm. He tore her sleeve from the purple outfit but didn't manage to snatch her from her kidnapper's powerful arms.

The man holding her whispered down to her gently: "are you alright, sweetheart?" He felt her nod into his chest. Despite his little bundle's safety, he made a mental note to 'come back for' Gambol.

"Alright, so, why don't you gimme a call when you wanna start taking things a little more seriously? Here's. My. Card." He placed down a Joker card from a classic deck of playing cards. Again, he marvelled at his creativity and laughed a little inside.

As the pair backed out, Gambol slammed his fist against the table. The clown always got away.

**Sorry this one's late! I'm very busy at the moment. More should be coming around same time next week or a little before… anything you wanna see in the next few chapters leave in the reviews, thanks for reading:') x **


	8. Act Like Your Type

Act Like Your Type

**Little bit of mushiness at the start, but there is spanking later in this chapter so it's all evened out *cheers* **

**Didn't know who graphic you guys like that sort of thing, so I've kept it relatively safe. **

**If anyone wants something more graphic in the next few chapters (ooh…..) let me know bc it can be arranged;) x**

The drive that followed was strange for both of them. As for the passenger, she couldn't understand why she wasn't dead. Why - back in that building - when she was in his arms, she hadn't felt scared for one moment. As for the driver, he couldn't understand any of it. He'd always avoided his own emotions… now he had no choice but to face them. But madness had always been the emergency exit, right?

Leila needed answers. She knew she couldn't feel this way about a murderer, she knew it wasn't right, but there was something… Just something about the way he'd acted back there…

"Why did you do that?" she stammered, a little nervous to be the first one to speak. "Why didn't you just let me die… You didn't act like your type would…"

He scoffed, never taking his eyes off the road. "What's that supposed to mean doll: 'my type'? What is 'that type', hm? Murderers?"  
He flinched at the word that followed: it reminded him too much of his father. **"Fiends?"**

"No, no not like that…" Suddenly Leila's stomach tightened. That is what she had meant and she'd known it all along. He was a murderer. How could she… How could she feel that way about him?

"Well what?" the Joker snapped. "Outcasts? Freaks?!"

Leila held her head in her hands, exasperated and tired. "Forget I said anything, Jack."

For the first time, he didn't correct her. "No… No, I know what you mean. I was veeeery… 'fatherly' in there, right?"

"Fatherly? You were practically suffocating me in your jacket!"

"Oh forget all of that. The point is," he smiled slyly, "you felt **safe like that, **didn't you? And in a super-duper-dangerous situation, too. But noooo, my cute little girly hostage felt **safe."**

She chastised herself. Again, he was right. Already, he knew her too well.

"And who's that down to, doll? Your safety is down to **me." **He paused; thinking of what to torture her with next. "Y'know… I think you should thank me."

"What?" his passenger retorted, glaring at him.

The Joker giggled, loving his sheer control over her. "Tut tut, little madam, don't disagree with your kidnapper! Rule number three! I've got a deeeadly potato peeler, remember? You should really just… Ob-ey me, hm?"

As he leaned towards her, she clamped her lips shut in a childish sulky manner.

"Aw, now you really look annoyed. But eh - apology please!"

She shook her head, lips still clasped firmly together.

He leaned away from her, eyes back on the road. "Stubborn," he remarked. "Like that little green eyed monster back home. She gets spanked for being like that… It's a shame that type of stuff turns her on. Althoouugh… I'm pre-tty sure you won't."

Leila merely stared blankly out of her window. She blinked when she noticed her surroundings. Again, she was on the outskirts of Gotham… Only this time she was in a parking lot of a hotel. And a classy one at that. "Shouldn't we be back at…?"

"Atatata." The Joker placed his finger over her lips, silencing her, his other hand on the wheel; parking the car. She didn't resist his touch, strangely enough. "Haven't you seen how **dark **it is, doll? The drive home is faaaar too long. We need… An overnight stop."

Once again - when the vehicle stopped - the kidnapper exited first, walked round to her side, opened her door for her and took her hand. He led her to the reception. She took everything in: the roughness, yet kindness of his hands, and even the stiffness in the way he walked. It was all pleasant until they arrived inside and the Joker cocked a pistol against the receptionist's head.

"I know you recognise me, I know you're dyyying to call for security. But I'm not here for any trouble. I just want a room. One night, no room service and… make it quick. If it's not, I'll make sure your death will be," he casually drawled.

The poor woman was quick to search for a room and pass him the keys. She seriously overdid the 'service with a smile' front, and the Joker didn't like that, but he overlooked it. He couldn't have his cute little girly hostage seeing him murder innocent people. **Yet. **

When they arrived at the room, on the highest floor, he stopped. He looked deep into his hostage's eyes, lowering his tone possessively. Her hand was still intertwined with his, but his pistol was still in the other. "Only one string, kiddo. Harley hears nothing of this."

Leila nodded.

"Ata girl," he praised darkly.

The room was incredible. _'That receptionist must've been fearing for her life," _Leila thought. There was a four-poster bed, draped with thin 'curtains'. The window almost took up the length of the wall; displaying the full length of Gotham's skyline. Personally, the Joker loved it. The Bat Signal would be in prime position if any of his thugs kicked off during the night.

Leila too, was amazed. She couldn't help herself but scuttle to the bed.

The Joker couldn't help himself but be proud of himself when he saw her enthusiasm. It was almost as if she was forgotten she was locked - overnight - with a serial killer. Clunking and locking the door shut, the Joker felt… Peaceful. Finally, someone who overlooked his homicidal ways. Maybe someone who could understand him.

He sidled up to his hostage's side. She was already sat sweetly on the bed. She looked like an excited child who had just arrived at Disney. The Joker smiled: only he knew what was coming.

"Last night," he began, "you escaped from your room. You asked me loooads of personal questions in the car. You accused me of having 'a type'. Secretly, doll… you must've known this was coming."

"Known what was coming?" she mumbled innocently.

He loved how she avoided eye contact. She was fearful. Wary. Like prey being hunted down by a hungry predator. And he sure was **hungry**.

"Naughty little girls," he continued, sitting down beside on the bed, "get **spanked."**

Leila gulped nervously. She'd already felt his strength when he was trying to be comforting. What would it be like when he **wanted** to hurt her? _'Oh she is a-dor-a-ble! We're going to have so much fun…' _the Joker chuckled in his thoughts.

"C'mon toots. Over my lap."

"Oh God, you're not **serious **are you?!"

The laughter that followed was hysterical. The little grunts in-between sounded like sneezes, and they were almost cute amongst his crazed squeals of delight. He rocked backwards, still laughing. "You really haven't heard of me before, have ya doll?!"

His voice went deep and husky as he bellowed: "**WHY SO SERIOUS?!"**

Again, he erupted into fits of giggles. Suddenly he stopped, patting his lap: serious. "Over my lap." 

Leila stayed put.

"Don't make me put you over my lap myself, doll, or your punishment is gonna be far worse," he threatened in a sing-song voice.

Reluctantly, she turned to face him and crawled over his lap.

From the back, the Joker had the perfect view of his little hostage: her curvy little body all splayed out over his own; vulnerable. Unable to stop him from doing what he wanted with her. Secretly, ever since the day she arrived, he'd wanted to do this. Now she'd given him the perfect excuse.

He trailed his fingers through her hair, tugging at the spare strands and pulling her head back with every gentle tease. Twirling it around his fingers then releasing it, he traced his rugged hands down her spine.

When the reached the bottom of her jacket, he decided he ought to remove it for his own pleasure. Her arms tensed as he slid the sleeves down and removed her outer clothing. Now she was only in a mini skirt and a tiny camisole. Her black lace bra showed through the thin material. He was so tempted to undo it… but not now. _'Maybe later.'_

When his hand reached her lower back, he stopped. In reaction, Leila tensed; worried and scared. What? Did he not like her? Had he changed his mind? Was he just going to kill her after all?

Suddenly, he grabbed her ass, pushing her further up on his knee. She yelped. "Sh…" he soothed her, gently patting where he had grabbed. Her little rear was already red with his hand prints. But that was only when he was gloved.

Sliding his glove off his eager hands, Leila tensed again. "Relax, sweetheart. I'll try to be gentle on your first time." He grinned.

Without warning, he raised his hand high then smacked it down against her backside. She squealed. He loved squealers. Keen for more, he quickly brought his palm down on her sensitive body again. She cried out, pleading for him to stop.

"Aw, you really are a delicate little doll," he murmured down to her. "But daddy's only just started…"

With another slap, she felt her whole body jolt against his knee. Leila hated the way she couldn't stop him. But that was just what he loved.

Every time he touched her, he hit harder. He began to pick up the pace, savouring every single one of her shrieks of pain. Her little bottom now was flushed red, hands prints all over her left cheek. Time for the other one.

As he started again on the other cheek, his hand came down slower and softer. For a moment, Leila thought he was showing mercy. After all, she was screaming out in pain. But no. Soon his pace quickened, his hand struck harder, and she was wailing again.

By the time he finished, she was in tears. He had noticed that as he finished her right cheek, her squeals of pain had become more like moans. **Moans. **Moans were even better than squeals… Carefully, the Joker began to peel down her miniskirt.

"What are you doing…?" a weak voice stammered from beneath him. She shuddered when she spoke.

Her kidnapper didn't respond. Continuing to lower her skirt, down her thighs and to her ankles, she was entirely vulnerable to him. She wore a matching black g-string that outlined the shape of her little rear perfectly. Leila froze as she felt a bulge press up into her stomach from the Joker's crotch.

Equally as tenderly, he reached for her. For a moment, he rested his palm over her bruised bottom. Leila finally thought he was finished. But when he trailed his hand between her legs…

"No!" she cried out, squirming on his lap.

"Sh… sh…" Squealers were far better than squirmers. With his spare arm, the Joker pinned down his cute little girly hostage. She would enjoy what was to follow. The pain was over.

**Gonna leave it there;') Didn't know if you guys wanted me to continue with where the Joker's going with this…. Too soon? idk. Let me know if you want me to let him continue or for Leila to stop him - didn't want to disappoint after all this waiting, hehe:) x**


	9. Another Side of Him

Another Side of Him

**This was supposed to be a draft, haha. Really mixed this chapter up… read and then read the explanation at the end; it'll all make sense then:') **

She squirmed as he slid her panties down. He pinned her down harder, applying what would have been far too much force. She yelped at how his elbow dug into her lower back, but thinking it was because of what his other hand was doing, the Joker only pushed down harder.

Smoothly, he removed her panties. Admiring her bare behind; he was in complete control. He **loved **that.

"Please…" a feeble voice whimpered from beneath him. She still shuddered with every word that passed her lips. She begged him: "please don't. I don't want it to be like this…"

"Oh but doll, you've had your fair share of punishment now," he reassured her softly. This time, he didn't run his fingers through her hair in the same comforting way he had done before. No - this was all on his terms.

"But this **is **punishment!" the helpless girl cried out.

"Atata!" he corrected. "This is not punishment, it's **pleasure.**"

"Jack no…"

Now her voice was barely a whisper. Her rear still a deep, bruised shade of red, she was completely at his mercy. Entirely vulnerable, and partially naked. Not that he cared. If anything, the Joker **wanted **to pleasure her. She had such a cute little voice… he'd wanted to hear a moan escape her lips since they day he'd kidnapped her from the bank. When she'd moaned before, it had been from the sheer pain. But now… now it would be a **proper **moan. _'And given at my own hands…'_

Without further hesitation, he slipped his fingers into her entrance. She wasn't at all wet.

"Oh doll… I really turn you off don't I?" he remarked, pulling his moistureless fingertips from her inside and showing them to her. "I'll have to see if I can make you change your mind, eh?"

Entering her again with only one finger, she suddenly felt at ease. He was right. It **was** going to be gentle. She might even enjoy it. If not for -

Slowly and carefully, the Joker began to glide his fingers in and out of her gradually wetting entrance. He wanted her to be comfortable before he put anything more inside her.

Without knowing it, he brushed her g-spot. Instantly, she let out a moan. She chastised herself for being so aroused by such a dangerous man. How could she surrender to him? No. She had to refuse him.

"Jack, stop." Leila tried to sound serious, but her breath was already heavy with satisfaction. The Joker easily picked up on that.

"Aw… my cute little girly hostage trying to sound all macho," he giggled, twirling his fingers in and around her vulva. "But she can't be all serious when she's in so much **pleasure…"**

She was wet enough now. Her kidnapper slipped two fingers, then three fingers into her, with every pulse of his hand another sensation triggered. Leila began to involuntarily moan with every touch, every pull and every thrust of the hand. Soon, he began to feel her little entrance begin to tremble around his hands. Faster he worked, her little heart racing, her blood pulsing around her entire body. Moaning louder, breathing harder, her entrance tightened around his hand, her whole body tensing for several seconds, before slumping (spent) over his lap.

The Joker let her lie there. He wanted her to take in every sensation. He wanted her to relish just how **good **he made her feel. He wanted her to **want **him. He wanted her to lie there sore, but still begging for him to continue. Removing his hands from his entrance, he couldn't help but admire his work: his fingers were soaked: she had loved **every second. **

Suddenly a voice that was now no more than a breath drifted up to him. "Never do something like that again…"

He coughed gruffly, smacking his lips in confusion. "Ahem - **what?" **

"Never force me into something like that again, Jack…"

The Joker couldn't believe it. He had done that for her own enjoyment. How dare she not be grateful?! How dare she not beg for more?! It infuriated him. He flung her off her knee, tossing her onto her back: panties and skirt still round her ankles.

"How dare you?!" he bellowed, still in a form of nasally Joker-drawl.

"What do you mean…?" his poor hostage stammered. She lay on her back on the floor, watching a maniacal man pace around the room. Again, she found herself fear for her life. She was only a young woman. She was lying semi-naked on the floor of a hotel in the middle of nowhere with a murdering mob-boss who she had just insulted. Was there any way he wouldn't choose to kill her?

"All of this? This was for **your **benefit!" He continued to pace around the room, confused by everything. "I could've taken you home, but no, I wanted you to be **safe. **I wanted you to **feel **safe. I wanted you to **trust **me. I wanted you to overlook what everyone in this goddamn city thinks I am, and see me as a person, but no, all you can think is that 'a homicidal lunatic' just made you feel **so good** and how it **turns your stomach **that you could let yourself feel that way, right?"

She'd never seen him like this. What he said… It made sense. This wasn't the way of a lunatic. He seemed like a normal man. A normal man that couldn't understand why nobody understood him… Something that everyone has experienced, really.

But she didn't respond. He marched over to her, standing over her body, bending over and grabbing her shoulders to shake them. He shook her quite violently: that strength that she always feared. He shook her until she cried. This wasn't what he wanted: she was begging for him to **stop, **not for him to continue.

"Please, Jack… Please…" murmured the battered girl from beneath him.

Suddenly, he snapped into consciousness. First he saw his hands gripping her pale skin until it burnt black and blue. Then he saw the face of such a beautiful, delicate thing… It was crying, it's cheeks flushed it's expression strained. Finally he heard it's voice. Faint and pained, it was begging him to let her be.

The Joker, too, collapsed onto the floor. He collapsed next to her in an equally as little heap, sobbing persistently. It was a strange sensation, watching someone so dangerous cry. Although his voice was that of a man's, his little sobs and sniffs were thin and weak. To Leila, he sounded like a hurt child. Somehow she felt like his mother.

Without knowing (or understanding) what she was doing, she wrapped her arms around the small bundle beside her. She shushed him, stroked his hair, held him to her as best she could. He was such a tall man and she was so small, but he found comfort in her.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart… I'm so sorry… I didn't mean to hurt you… I didn't mean to…"

Again, she found herself saying something she didn't really mean. "It's okay, sh…" she murmured into his hair. His face was nestled under his chin and into her neck. Her skin was so smooth, he noted. His breath was so warm against her cool frame. He wrapped his arms around her waist; never wanting her to let go.

—

She watched over him the entire night; not getting a single moment of sleep. Leila held him in that same position until he fell asleep. Then, she had wriggled out of his arms and crept to the bed, pulling the duvet off and draping it over him. Now, she sat on the duvet-less bed, watching his little twitches in sleep. Occasionally he would pull a childish 'scared' or 'upset' face and mumble something into the sheets, but he would soon return to peaceful sleep. _'Good.'_

Somehow, she didn't want him to hurt.

**Hope you guys enjoyed this, like I said, really mixed this up: started with touchy-feely etc (thought you guys might want that, idk, let me know about all that jazz hehe). But I ended this chapter on a sadder note. Wanted to show a different side to the Joker: the more 'human' side. Also wanted to show how the pair are starting to care for eachother… Hopefully next chapters won't be as fuzzy:') Will try and make him more typical Joker next few times, again hope you guys enjoyed:) x **

**p.s didn't read this through for mistakes, sorry **


	10. AN2: Uninspired :(

**Hey guys - just wanted to ask: what do you wanna see happening in the next chapter? I'm really uninspired atm:( I've drafted a couple things but not of them are taking the story anywhere interesting… So suggest what you want to happen in the next chapter? Also very sorry that these are taking so long, I'm so grateful for anyone who's keeping up with this story, even after all these waits:') **

**Thanks to everyone who gets in touch about this - I will try and get something written a. . - Lauren x**


	11. Disciplining Gambol

**Sorry this is exceptionally late:'( Was insanely uninspired *sniff sniff* Thanks to everyone who's waited and to everyone who's reviewed, & don't worry, I'm still as obsessed with the Joker haha:') (tried a different style at the start of this chapter, bear with me)**

Leila was barely awake. She looked around the room slowly, her little frame slumped over the mattress and her head on the pillow. She didn't like the fact she'd fallen asleep... Especially since her kidnapper was nowhere to be seen. The duvet was still laid on the floor, where he'd been, but there was no sign of him. Maybe he'd abandoned her there.

Leila woke again. Someone was shaking her. Not as violently as she'd been shaken before, but still shaking her. She grumbled something into the pillow, but the foreign hands persisted. Growling, she opened her eyes. He was there. He hadn't abandoned her. He said something to her, quite serious, but she didn't catch it. Hadn't he joked about that before? _'Why so serious...?'_

Again, she was awake. Had she dreamt everything up? Where was she? Her body vibrated from the movement of her seat... A car? She sat in the passenger seat. Confused, she looked to her driver. Her kidnapper sat straight up, eyes on the road. She knew he could sense her looking at him, but still he wouldn't make eye contact. She frowned as she fell back into sleep, exhausted from last night's escapades.

She blinked her eyes open. They weren't alone: her eyelashes fluttered against the brittle material of a shirt. She felt the presence of the same hands that had shaken her - twice now - beneath her knees and on her upper back: holding her to him? His hands felt strong against her tender skin. She felt safe there. Almost desperately, she pressed her face against his chest reassuringly. Surely he was still shook up from the night before? The little bundle tried to whisper comforting things to him, but they were just noises to his unwilling ears.

She woke for the final time. Again, the cute little girly hostage was alone. Would he ever call her that again? He'd been so hostile towards her heartening ways. This time, she didn't lie in his arms, but in a bed. And not his. Looking at the duvet she laid upon, she recognised the red and black checks.

She was back in Harley's room.

But Harley wasn't there either. For some reason, she cried out for attention. Nobody replied. No sound echoed throughout the house... Not a creak of the staircase, nothing. She was entirely alone. She didn't like that. But she was too tired to be angry... Too tired to even be confused. There was no clock to see the time, and the curtains were drawn, but she guessed it must still be morning. Judging by his attitude towards her, the Joker wouldn't have wanted to linger in a hotel room with a girl who'd made him feel so **weak.**

He didn't like weakness.

Meanwhile, in that same car, Leila's two kidnappers were taking care of business of their own. But not in their usual attire. Harley wore Leila's work clothes: the pinstriped blazer, blouse, pencil skirt and translucent tights. Her puddin' wore his typical outfit, but was draped in a bin bag. He acted as if he'd forgotten the previous night's happenings.

As for Harley, she was beside herself with joy. Mister J had finally decided to let whatever ideas he'd had about their hostage go. He'd seen the light: he would stay with his little jester companion until their dying day. Harley didn't object to the exaggerated fantasies running wildly through her blonde head: they would torture Leila, they would kill her and dump her in a lake far, far away. Then she and Mister J would marry, have hundreds of kids, grow old together -

"Mister J...?" she cooed affectionately. The Joker played along. His little hostage had disappointed him... He'd disappointed himself.

He looked slyly at his partner in crime, taking one hand off the wheel and placing it on hers. Harley blushed through her pale foundation.

She giggled. "What did you do to our little friend..?"

"Ooh,** a friend? **We haven't had one of those in a while, Harls," the Joker chuckled darkly, remembering the side of himself he wanted Gotham to see. "Oh... you mean our little pet?"

"Yeah, our pet!" Harley laughed, toying with his fingers with her own excitedly. He had seen that little bimbo as an animal after all.

"Oh don't worry toots, she's locked up in her room." He paused. "Well. Your room."

Harley yanked her hand from his in an instant. **He'd kept the brat. **

"I thought you'd dumped her in a lake, puddin'!" she wailed sulkily. "I thought she was a goner!" She mumbled the rest. "That you only cared for me..."

"Aw, those little eyes are going green again, Harls," he chuckled devilishly. "Don't be getting all jealous on me..."

"Jealous?! Psh. She was a spoilt little brat anyway."

"And if that's how you feel, I **promise** you can do **whate-ver** you want to her when we get home.

"She's your problem now," he added carelessly.

That set her mind at rest. Her problem? She could live with that. She couldn't wait to unleash all her weapons on a girl that had caused her so much stress.

She smiled, relieved. "Anyways puddin', where are we going?"

"We've got another pet to discipline, doll." The Joker turned around a corner, pulling up at a small building with a low roof. Sort of like a town hall, but different in a way. "You remember our little friend Gambol, right?"

Harley grinned herself. She knew the way Mister J liked to discipline misbehaving acquaintances.

The Joker stepped out of the car first. Harley assumed he'd come to open her side, but he didn't. She huffed at how cool he could be. Part of her wanted a cute relationship still. But it was that cruelty in him that had attracted her to him back in Arkham.

As they approached the entrance to the building, Harley spotted a man at the door. "Showtime," she hissed at her puddin'. He promptly fell limp into her arms, pulling the bag over his face as he did it. She dragged him across the parking lot. His sheer height nearly made him too heavy for her frail arms.

"I'm here to see, uh, Gambol?" Harley explained to the burly man at the door. She assumed he was one of the mob boss' henchmen. He'd be easy to deal with later.

The man grunted in reply. Showing her inside, it did indeed seem like some kind of bar or town hall. Inside, there were several pool tables. None of which where occupied, except for one in the centre, where several other men watched their boss play himself at the game. They nodded respectfully occasionally.

The man at the door approached Gambol, interrupting his game. Gambol frowned. "Someone here to see you," the man clarified. "Say they've killed the Joker."

Harley smiled sweetly, curtseying in her formal outfit. It was a little tight for her because of the tiny woman who'd worn it beforehand: when she knelt her skirt almost split.

Gambol gestured to the pool table he'd been playing on, entirely disregarding his game as Harley splayed out 'the body'. The mob boss yanked the bag off his victim's face in a moment. It was definitely the Joker. '_Dead at last.'_

"Dead?" he remarked, approaching Harley. "That's $500."

Suddenly, two of Gambol's henchmen hauled the Joker up from the table, who promptly grabbed Gambol by the neck and raised his knife in front of his face. "How 'bout aliiiive...?" he purred, stroking the blade over the man's mouth.

The Joker leant in, enjoying every second. He'd despised Gambol since the day they met. Never benefiting the mob, always giving the game away... If anyone was a goner, it was Gambol. "You wanna know... how I got these scars?"

Gambol's eyes grew wide. He looked first at the clown's face, so close to his own. The blade, glinting in the dim light. A poet would say it was beautiful. He glanced around fearfully: his remaining men were on the floor, the betrayers pressing pistols to their heads. Harley plainly perched herself on the pool table behind her puddin', giggling sporadically and taunting their little victim.

"My father..." the Joker began, looking to the ceiling for inspiration. When he just aimed to kill somebody, these kinds of stories didn't come naturally. He'd just have to play the 'crazy drunk' card this time. "...my father was... a drinker. And a **fiend."**

He giggled, loving how a story could suddenly come together in his twisted mind. The way he told it... It were almost as if it were **true. **The lies just slipped off his nimble tongue... A true criminal. The amount of time on the inside he'd wriggled out of thanks to his ability to lie.None of much he said was the truth. He barely even understood what he was saying sometimes. Especially when it came to the injuries on his cheeks. Not even his little jester companion knew the truth behind his scars. Sometimes, even the Joker forgot how he got them.

He looked over Gambol's shoulder, checking the men were still sufficiently restrained. They were. He continued happily, loving every second: "and one night... he goes off **craaazier **than usual... Mommy gets the kitchen knife to defend herself... He doesn't like that..."

The Joker's eyes wandered to the back of the room, searching for inspiration again. But he didn't find it there. Instead, he noticed something totally unexpected.

His cute little girly hostage.

**Sorry if this was awful, will bring it back to more smut in the next few chapters. Anything you wanna see more of let me know, and as per, thanks for reading:') x**


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